Chevra Kadisha
by Sapphire and Silver
Summary: "It's Jewish tradition that you don't leave the body alone before the funeral. Someone stays and guards it." The people who guard and care for the body are known as the chevra kadisha ("holy society"). As Toby mourns the dead, the people close to him care for and look after the living. Based around 06x16 "Drought Conditions." I own nothing.
1. Prelude - Leo

_Toby was very clear about the funeral,_ Leo mused to himself as he dropped his duffel bag and briefcase on the seat next to his. Unlocking the briefcase and pulling out a stack of files - work he normally would be doing at the office, had he not left so early - he lowered himself into his seat, glancing out the window at the tarmac, painted with the last, fading rays of sunlight. It felt strange, almost delinquent, to be out of the office so early - never mind that most people's workdays had ended nearly two hours before. For Leo, it was rare to be out before the sun went down. With his unforgiving schedule, his wife once joked that he signed away his right to daylight when he accepted the position of chief of staff.

Tonight was certainly a worthy exception. Leo remembered Toby's face the previous morning, just minutes after the frantic phone call from his sister-in-law. He knew Toby was never an early riser, and so the sight of his communication director pacing restlessly in the hall that morning at dawn was an anomaly that instantly put Leo on edge. When Toby finally spoke, his eyes dazed and frazzled, his sentences breaking off as abruptly as his about-faces in the corridor, Leo wasted no time with platitudes and expressions of sympathy. He knew there would be time for it later. After five minutes and three phone calls, courtesy of Margaret, he was shepherding Toby into the waiting car for the next flight to Orlando.

Toby sometimes reminded him of an arrow shot from a bow: a forced to be reckoned with, but only when propelled in the right direction. Leo was sure that Toby would have pulled himself together on his own, but Leo's guidance gave him a chance to do, not think, and so he sank into the seat of the car in silence, glancing back up at Leo with something like gratitude in his eyes as the driver pulled away.

An hour later, Leo knocked gently on the president's door and told him what happened before the rest of the senior staff trickled into the Oval Office. The president's eyes were soft as Leo explained Toby's absence to the rest of the staff. When they asked for details - the funeral, a memorial, what they could do to help - he repeated only what Toby had said pacing in the hall. He asked them not to call for a few hours, knowing that Toby needed time to be with his family before he'd be in any state to talk. He was sure, too, that Toby would be embarrassed by his disarray that morning if he'd had the energy to think about it. Better that he could compose himself before the onslaught of condolence calls would begin, if only to spare him that same embarrassment.

The senior staff was ready to fly down to Florida when Toby finally called, but he left no room for argument: for all the publicity his missions had accrued, his brother was a private man and wouldn't have wanted a fuss about his funeral. He thanked everyone for their concern, his voice low and sincere, and promised them that he'd manage on his own and with his family there. When they hung up the phone, the staff exchanged resigned and sympathetic looks before quietly heading back to their offices.

By the next day, it was no longer the first thing they spoke about to each other. But when they saw Leo pass by them in the hall late that afternoon, his jacket slung over his shoulder and his briefcase in hand, it wasn't hard to figure out where he was headed.

 _Toby was very clear about the funeral_ , Leo thought, settling into his seat, and he had respected the man's wishes, not daring to fly out the previous afternoon in time for the burial service. He marveled at the speed at which Jewish communities organized funerals for their deceased, often holding services the very same day in an effort to show utmost respect for the body. But Toby hadn't said anything about the shiva, the seven-day period of mourning following the burial, and Leo couldn't stomach the idea of Toby lingering there a whole week without his own friends there. With so much to take care of, he wanted to be sure that someone would take care of Toby, too, or at least look in on him for a few hours.

He sipped at a glass of ice water as he looked out on the ocean, which darkened to an inky blackness as the day's waning light continued to fade. As the plane began to descend, he reached into his coat pocket, feeling around briefly until his fingers touched the folded slip of paper with an Altamonte Springs address scribbled across the top. He hoped the Zieglers wouldn't mind a visitor so late - and one that they surely weren't expecting, to boot.

* * *

Leo expected the house to be quiet by the time his car turned onto the Zieglers' well-kept, tree-lined street, but even before knocking he could hear commotion. Taking a deep breath, he pressed the doorbell once, and a young man opened it almost before he could lower his arm to his side. Leo sized him up quickly and decided he didn't know the man: too old to be one of David's kids, and too young to be Toby's brother-in-law. When Leo told him his name, the man's eyes lit up in recognition.

"Thank you so much for coming. I know it'll really mean a lot to Toby," he said.

"Of course," Leo replied, holding his gaze, "and I'm so sorry for your loss. How did you know David?"

"I live next door, always have," the man replied. "I'm Mitchell. David and his family was always inviting mine over for get-togethers and holidays, that sort of thing. I figured the least I could do is stay around the house here and help direct traffic. So many people have come already, and it's only the first day."

Judging by the din coming from the living room, Mitchell had an important job for the week. Leo could only imagine how many visitors they would have - David's colleagues, people from the neighborhood, and family and friends from all over the East Coast. "It's very good of you to do that," Leo replied. He hesitated a moment before speaking again, glancing around to get a glimpse of the people inside the house. "Listen, I'd really rather not have everyone knowing I'm here. Publicity tends to follow me a little bit, and I'm sure that's the last thing everyone needs. Could you tell me where Toby is?"

"Of course, and I think you're right. The Zieglers could do with some privacy. Shiva may do a lot of good, but I think they're already exhausted by the attention, and that's just from the people they know personally." He gave Leo a knowing smile. "I think Toby's with his sister-in-law. I'll bring him over."

"Thank you," Leo answered as Mitchell touched him briefly on the arm. He watched as Mitchell turned and walked further into the house, weaving through the clusters of people standing and talking together, a spread of platters and beverages untouched on the nearby dining room table. Along one wall was an enormous frame taking up most of its space. It appeared to be shrouded in a sheet, and Leo puzzled at it a moment before realizing that underneath must be a mirror. He recalled from other shiva calls that Jews traditionally cover the mirrors in their home for the week, so that they do not feel compelled to worry about things as trivial as their appearance.

"Leo?" he heard the unmistakable timbre of Toby's voice, rising in disbelief as the communications director saw him from halfway across the room. Toby came towards him, his mouth slightly open. "Wow. You're really here. When did you come?"

Leo regarded him with something just short of gentle bemusement. "You said not to come to the funeral. You didn't say anything about the next seven days." He reached out to clasp Toby's shoulder for a moment. "And I just came a few minutes ago. Mitchell seems to be holding down the fort."

Toby had recovered from his surprise by then and simply nodded his head. "Mitch is a great guy. He's become our official greeter and usher today, and he's great with David's kids, too."

Leo sobered at their mention. "How are they holding up?"

Toby looked down at the floor for a second. "One hour at a time. The youngest doesn't really understand what's going on. He's only two and a half. I heard him asking for his daddy last night on the way home from the cemetery. And I think the others are still in shock."

The older man nodded, his eyes sympathetic. "And what about you?"

Toby took a breath to answer, but before he could get a word out, the sound of the rhythmic thump of a palm on the dining room table came from the living room. Toby met Leo's eyes again. "They're starting the evening prayer. If you want to stay it'll only take about ten, fifteen minutes."

"I'm happy to stay, as long as it's not intrusive for me to be here," he replied. His past shiva calls had been perfunctory, visits to honor people he'd hardly known. He had never stayed long enough to see what the prayer was like. "Is it alright?"

Toby nodded quickly, already turning to move back into the living room. "Absolutely. The men pray on this side of the room," he said, pointing towards the window. At Leo's look of surprise, he almost smiled. "I know, very traditional. But it's how I grew up and how my father still is." As he spoke, he guided Leo to the side of the room, picking up a prayer book and placing it in Leo's hands. "Feel free to follow along if you'd like to see what we're all mumbling."

With that, Toby turned and moved to a table with a prayer shawl and a basket of yarmulkes. As the din of the room started to quiet down, he placed a yarmulke on his head and picked up a prayer shawl, kissing its collar quickly before wrapping it around his shoulders. An older, bearded man called out a page number, and to Leo's surprise, it was Toby who began the call to prayer.

Leo stood unobtrusively by the wall, watching as the rest of the people in the room bowed at the waist and answered in Hebrew. Uninterested in the meaning of the words, Leo focused his attention on Toby's form as the man swayed back and forth slightly with the rhythm of prayer. He led the service with a practiced ease that Leo would never have expected from the urbane White House official he had come to know so well. He knew that Toby had grown up in a very orthodox family, but it hadn't occurred to him that his background would stick with him so completely. It was humbling, in a way, to learn something new about someone so close to him.

After some minutes of silent prayer, Toby continued to lead a chant, the Hebrew flowing easily from most of those praying. Leo was lulled briefly by its cadence until, with no obvious prompting of the transition, most of the people closed their prayer books and stood in respectful silence. Only Toby, an older gentleman towards the front of the room, and a lanky teenage boy remained standing, and the three began to speak - not chant - in unison. At certain intervals they would pause, allowing the rest of the people to answer in kind, before they would resume again.

As the prayer came to a close, the three took three deliberate steps backwards before bowing right, left, and center. A chorus of amens came as they straightened up and looked at each other intently. Toby pulled the young man in for a quick embrace, ruffling his hair roughly before releasing him and shaking hands with the older gentleman.

Quickly the chatter in the room resumed and increased in volume, the prayer service clearly over. Toby crouched down in front of a brunette woman sitting on a low chair, talking with her for a minute before kissing her on the cheek and walking away, throwing her a concerned glance as he did so. He came over to where Leo was still standing, the prayer still in his hands. "What'd you think of the show?"

"Pretty impressive," Leo answered, wry but honest. "I didn't know your Hebrew was so good."

Toby nodded, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. "It's like riding a bike. Some things are just part of your muscle memory."

"Must be," said Leo. "Listen, was that boy one of David's kids?"

"Yep. That's Aaron. He turned thirteen last month, so he's old enough to recite the prayer for the dead. It's only for immediate relatives, at least traditionally. Hell of a bar mitzvah gift, if you ask me."

Leo's eyes widened fractionally. "If that's only for close relatives, then that other man was-"

Toby cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Yes, that was my father. The one and only."

Leo nodded. "So you and him are-"

Once again Toby cut him off. "Yeah, things are alright between us now. It's been a while since all of that went down. And besides, he just buried his son. Nothing brings you together like losing a relative forty years too soon." His words, though meant to be biting and ironic, were cut by the minute cracking of his voice. He swallowed, pressing his lips together tightly before daring to look back up at Leo. "Sorry."

Leo looked at him steadily. "Don't even think about apologizing," he admonished, watching as Toby closed his eyes and took a breath. "You okay?"

Toby nodded, meeting Leo's eyes again. "Yeah. It's just been a lot. I never thought I'd be saying kaddish for my brother." He paused for a moment. "Or at least, not like this. A few years ago, when the shuttle malfunctioned..." he trailed off, struggling to continue. "I never thought it would be like this."

Gazing at Toby's haggard face, Leo was sure that his normally eloquent communications director was barely scratching at the surface. But he knew it wasn't his place to push. When he looked around and saw that people were beginning to trickle out the door, he took it as an opportunity to leave Toby with as much dignity intact as he could. "Listen, it's getting late and I've got to be at senior staff tomorrow before eight."

"Sure," said Toby, "of course." He looked about to speak for a moment before closing his mouth again. "Thanks for coming all the way out here. I can't tell you - you don't -"

"Toby. Don't worry. I understand," Leo assured him. "And you're welcome. They all would have come with me, you know, if I'd let them. They're all thinking of you. But I told them a visit from me would be traumatizing enough. You don't need to see CJ and the rest of the crew on top of it, not right now."

Toby chuckled, the sound more of a huff than a laugh. "I probably couldn't handle her mothering, at least not for a couple days." He looked down quickly. "But tell them all I say thanks anyway. I'll be back in a few days."

"Take your time," Leo reminded him. "There's no rush to come back. And if there's anything you need, you're gonna give me a call, alright?"

"You got it. Thanks, Leo," he said, holding out his hand. Leo regarded him for a moment before ignoring the proffered hand, pulling the younger man into a a brief, tight embrace and thumping him on the back.

"It's good to see you. Take care of yourself, you got that?"

"I got it. Have a safe flight." Leo nodded and turned to leave, walking down the stairs outside and heading for the car. As it pulled away, he caught a glimpse of Toby still standing in the doorway, watching as he rolled down the street and around the corner. As the ride continued, Leo closed his eyes wearily, the echoed cadence of Toby's prayer in his mind keeping time with the car's motion.


	2. CJ

A/N: Thank you so much for the views and reviews! It means everything to me and I'm so grateful to those of you who have taken the time to read my writing. Comments and critiques are always welcome. I'm a college student in the middle of midterms so my updates may not be so regular, but I have every intention of continuing this story as soon as I can.

* * *

 _"You want some water?"_

 _"No."_

 _"Scotch?"_

 _"No."_

 _"You want me to go?"_

 _"...No."_

C.J. held herself in silence, letting her gaze settle on a few rays of sunlight bathing the corner of Toby's office. She watched the shadows of the leaves outside dance lightly, a gentle wind tousling the branches just past the window. Already a few moments had passed since Toby had last spoken, but C.J. felt no more settled than the fluttering leaves - instead she felt herself shaken, Toby's muted sobs making her flutter just when she needed to be grounded and strong.

For all the elegant crafting of words they had to do on the job - sculpting the White House's message for a global audience, polishing the tenor of the president's rhetoric - wading into the muddy waters of the sentimental always seemed to them both like a more dangerous proposition. It was one thing to paint the political landscape with their words, especially after so many years of practice, of working with stakes higher than they'd imagined as the idealistic college students they were when they met. To paint more personal portraits always seemed impossible, risky, alien.

And so C.J. said nothing but shifted over on the sofa, draping an arm around Toby's shoulders and holding him against her tightly. He had just started to slow his breathing, but his breath caught at her touch and he felt himself shatter just a little, pitching forward with the weight of his grief and covering his face with one hand. C.J. only held him tighter, swallowing hard as she remembered a similar scene a year earlier.

* * *

 _C.J. opened the door of her office slowly, setting her bags down heavily and slamming down the handle on her carry-on. She collapsed into her chair, rubbing her forehead with a grimace as the headache that had begun on the red-eye that morning started to throb at her temple. She knew she had go over a folder of memos from before the weekend, but she could scarcely focus her vision on the words in front of her._

 _A quiet knock broke her out of what little concentration she had. Toby stood in the doorway, a bent finger still poised to rap against the wooden door, and a sober expression on his face. "Morning."_

 _"Morning," C.J. replied, dropping the folder back onto her desk and letting out a slow breath. "You're here early."_

 _Toby nodded, glancing at his watch without really seeing the time. "Thought I'd get a little paperwork out of the way before senior staff." At her vague noise of assent he stepped into the office, closing the door behind him with a soft click. "How did it go on Saturday?"_

 _She was careful not to make eye contact as she answered, shuffling papers around on her desk distractedly. "He's about as settled in as anyone could be in a place like that."_

 _He sat down gingerly on her sofa, schooling his expression to make sure it showed no surprise. "It's not what you thought it would be?"_

 _C.J. let out a sardonic chuckle. "No, it's pretty much exactly what I thought it would be. Very clean, very sunny. The nurses know all the residents by name and they seem competent. There's a swimming pool downstairs for water exercises. A little café by the kitchen. A flower garden in the back."_

 _Toby leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and trying to meet his friend's eyes. "Sounds like a comfortable place to me."_

 _"It sounds like a five-star prison!" C.J. exploded, her voice rising almost without her realizing that the shout came from her own mouth. "Room service and champagne in his very own jail cell. He's trapped in there._ I _trapped him there. Some flowers in the window box won't change that."_

 _The acid in her voice stung Toby like vinegar, but he knew it wasn't aimed at him. "You did what you needed to. He needs this kind of care and you're making sure he gets it."_

 _"I put my father in prison! I put him there and kissed him on the cheek and walked away." Her voice broke on the last word and she bit her lip hard, willing the overflow of feeling to ebb long enough for her to regain her composure and blink her eyes clear. She stood up in one abrupt motion, turning her back to Toby and gazing unseeingly out the window._

 _Toby opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He rose slowly, taking a deliberate step closer to C.J., and considered his next words. "You didn't abandon him. You searched for weeks to find the best care facility. You vetted every medical professional in the building. You made sure the kitchen knows how to make his favorite dinner. You did everything right, C.J., and you didn't abandon him. This is how you take care of your father now. You find the best places and people to give him what he needs."_

 _For a moment there was silence in the office. But before long C.J.'s labored breathing was audible, and a piece of Toby's heart started to shatter as he heard her muffled weeping. "Why couldn't I give him what he needed myself?" Her voice was jagged and hoarse. "What does it make me, that I had to send him somewhere instead of taking care of him on my own?" She stopped talking, wrapping her arms around her chest tightly and closing her eyes, feeling the early rays of sun on her face through the window as she lowered her head._

 _Toby thought back on half a decade of creating rhetoric and prose, willing himself to find the right words to help her, but nothing surfaced. He took another step toward her and reached out slowly, waiting for her to recoil at his touch. When she didn't, he wrapped his hand around her wrist, pulling her gently to the couch behind him. When she sank down onto the cushion he sat beside her, letting go only to pull her into his arms and rub hesitant circles onto her back._

 _He felt her stiffen for a moment, startled, but after a moment she let out a shuddering breath and collapsed into his embrace, winding an arm around him and breathing heavily against the collar of his shirt. "He doesn't know who I am anymore," she choked out, her words meant more for herself than for Toby. "He told me I looked like someone he used to know. And he wanted to know my name. My name! He picked it, you know. He named me when I was born."_

 _Trying to grab onto a moment of reprieve for C.J., Toby seized onto her words, still drawing circles on her back with the palm of his hand and fighting back the tears threatening to take his voice. "What did your mother want to call you?"_

 _He heard a watery chuckle. "Genevieve."_

 _"Really?" Toby allowed himself the ghost of a smile. "Seems a little old-fashioned to me."_

 _"I'll say," she responded, taking a deep breath. She pulled back from his embrace, wiping the heel of her hand against her cheek. Toby took her hand, holding it between them as he dug in his pocket with his other hand for a handkerchief. "Here."_

 _C.J. took it from him, swiping under her eyes and nose with a sniffle before offering it back to him._

 _Toby shook his head. "Keep it."_

 _She looked at him for a long moment and nodded, pushing it into her pocket. "I may only tell you this once every five years, but I love you, you know."_

 _Toby's mouth turned up slightly at the corners. "Love you too." He sobered."And so does your dad. For everything you've done for him. No matter what he remembers."_

 _Her eyes filled again, but Toby's grip on her hand anchored her against the current of her grief._

 _"Okay," she whispered._

* * *

C.J. kept her arm around Toby's shoulders as his breathing started to settle again. She expected the silence surrounding them to go on, and she almost started at his words, muffled by the hand he kept over his mouth. "I don't understand how he could just leave like this."

She felt her eyes burn again at his words, thinking of all the ways the people in your life can leave you, all the ways they make their exits from your reality right before your eyes, all the ways you can give them everything and have it not be enough. She thought of the tears they'd shared over the years, holding each other close as the distance between them and their loved ones would grow greater and greater. She thought of David Ziegler, farther away now than when he would launch himself into orbit. She thought of his brother, her friend for half her life, who had stayed with her as she wept that morning as she lost her father in a very different way.

C.J. thought of all this, felt it wash over them like a wave, and knew there wasn't an answer. As Toby swallowed and wiped his eyes a final time, she thought of the privilege of knowing Toby Ziegler this way, in all of his arrogance and irony and raw humanity. She thought of the distance between them and the ones they'd lost.

She twisted herself around and wrapped her other arm around him, eliminating any distance between their bodies as she pulled him more tightly into her arms.


End file.
